Feral: Valka's Story
by duskyflower
Summary: The untold story of Valka when she was snatched by dragons from her husband and infant son, and her years spent adapting to her new culture and way of life. Intended to be as close to canon as possible. T for violence against mainly dragons, but it's not much darker than the movies themselves.
1. Snatched

**Author's Note:**

 **The original form of this story is a couple years old and unfinished. I decided to pick it back up and rewrite it. I'm not sure how long it will be, but I'll be covering Valka's first year or so with the dragons, then bits and pieces of the following twenty years, her reunion with Hiccup, her return to Berk and then a little after the events of the third movie to see how she's doing. All reviews and follows are very much appreciated, and critique is also very welcome!**

It was a saying among my people that a child didn't have to be taught to fear a dragon. Perhaps it was so among many children, but there was always a seed of doubt in my heart. I remembered the first time I saw a dragon. Before then, I had only heard them. As soon as dragons were spied on the horizon my parents would safeguard my brother and I beneath their bed before bursting out of our hut and into battle. We would hear yells and see flashes of orange and golden light coming through beneath the door. And we would hear the roars: deep, ground-shaking, seeming capable of melting your bones. My mind conjured images of dragons in my mind, further intensified by the crude sketches from our books, of monsters and teeth and blood. Winged beings of darkness, fire and death. I attended funerals, where a funeral boat would be ignited with the same fire that ended the life of the viking. I saw dragon heads mounted on spears, but my fear would keep me at a distance from that grisly sight. Yes, I thought I feared dragons.

My brother - many years my elder - came of age long before I and trained to fight dragons. Soon he joined the other warriors. Soon, I alone remained in the hut as he fought dragons alongside my parents, forced to tend the fire against the winter night and to clutch my axe in my shaking hands. Forced also to listen. Listen and hope that these monsters would spare the ones I loved - or that my family would kill them first. One of those nights I heard a noise outside the door, and a long shadow stretching through the crack beneath it. I tried to slow my breathing, but my heart surely pounded loud enough to hear. Too late, I remembered the mutton chops curing in the cellar. The whole house rattled as the beast knocked against it, and our door splintered before its strength. My eyes squeezed shut. I heard heavy steps and the sound of another's breath. My eyes opened, and I let out a strangled cry. There were yellow eyes towering over me and staring into mine, so that I could see my own reflection in their depths. In that dragon's eyes I saw myself: small, pale and scared. The beast had flaring, golden nostrils, a sharp horn set into its face, and cruel fangs. The yellow eyes flickered down to my axe. This was the moment in which I was to raise it, and gore the beast. Instead, my axe clattered down to the ground before I knew I had released it. The beast regarded me for a moment longer and then began to sniff out our cellar, knocking down furniture in the process. It was a Nadder, I realized, a _Deadly_ Nadder. I studied every inch of it. Its lashing tail was covered in long barbs that could fly towards me and pierce my heart before I would even know what had happened. This was one of the most aggressive breeds of dragon, I remembered, more volatile than an injured Gronckle. It had purple scales that caught the firelight so that it twinkled as the creature moved. Its whole body rippled and bobbed as it took each step, a motion that would perhaps be graceful if it wasn't crashing into everything. There was a sudden yell outside - a battlecry - and the Nadder whirled around. Four long spines buried themselves in the wood over our doorframe and I gasped. I looked back at the Nadder, which had once more set its sights on me. I noticed a long scar marring the scales along the side of its neck. An axe wound, no doubt. The scar looked wrong - utterly foreign on such a creature. I couldn't call it beautiful, not while my heart was in my throat, but it had an air of highliness that was unbefitting to such blemishes. I wondered if it had killed the viking that caused that scar. I didn't want to know the answer. The Nadder found the ladder to our cellar and returned with one of the mutton haunches in its jaws.

"That's ours," I breathed, intending it as a cry of outrage. The Nadder only looked at me. And then there was another yell and everything became a blur.

"Get out of there, ye filthy beast!" Suddenly there was our chieftain in the hut, three familiar barbs already buried in his shield. The Nadder shrieked and then fell to the ground. The chieftains axe had appeared in the Nadder's chest. I looked away.

"Ye're safe now, lass," he boomed. I wept, and didn't know why.

I never entered dragon training, despite having gained a reputation as a scrappy young shieldmaiden that was as fierce as Yngvar against all but one of her people's enemies. I fought in battle after battle, hoping that some great act of courage would make up for years of cowardice against the beasts that plundered our village. I couldn't even dream of fighting a dragon after my encounter with that Nadder. Time wore away at my initial terror to reveal something peculiar: the beast did not kill me, and I did not want to kill it. In some way I had found it lovely, and worthy of life. Dangerous, yes, and wild, but more fey than monstrous. Even before I had made up my mind about dragons, my conscious could not let me fight. I could not shake the feeling that had arisen in my chest when that Nadder's blood was spilled and the life had left its yellow eyes. Perhaps the deaths of dragons had to be necessary, but they felt bitterly wrong. I could not group them with the other thieves and pillagers that plagued the archipelago. Pillagers did not show mercy. Dragons did.

I met my husband on the battlefield and married him soon after. There was much teasing about Stoick the Vast, future chief of Berk, marrying a skinny little warrior maiden. We both laughed heartily about it. There was also teasing about the man who popped the head of a dragon off its neck as a babe marrying the girl who could not lift a weapon against them. Neither of us laughed at that. Though our views differed, his love for me was emboldening and I tried to stop the bloodshed. I tried to help them see what I saw. They did not, could not. At their bitterest, they joked that I had been dropped on the head as a child, that I was irreparably different. I began to believe them. I wondered if I had always been that way, if I had been born that way and never realized it until that Nadder encounter. I first loved the people of Berk - and then wished I could love them - as the vitriol against me grew harsher but I found myself separate from them time and time again. Even Stoick tried to convince me to change. I doubt he had ever forgiven me for believing what I did, but he still loved me more fiercely than any differences we had and that for a time was enough. We tried to build a family. We had a son, Hiccup, and the mutterings against me grew worse. Hiccup took after me to a far greater extent than I had ever wanted. He was sickly and weak; I had heard the people say that he was not the son of a chief. Stoick loved him just as fiercely, though, and that too seemed enough. We would build a family and be happy. That was the promise we made to each other when it seemed like the whole world wished to seperate us. It never would, we promised each other. We never thought it could.

It took a single dragon raid for everything to change. I had left Hiccup in the cradle as I tried to save what dragons I could, sometimes succeeding. Then I saw it. A dragon, breaking into our home, going after Hiccup. I rushed after it with a sword in hand. In that moment, I came the closest I had ever done to killing a dragon. In that moment, it would've been more than possible for me. But what I saw confirmed everything I believed about dragons. There it was, calming the cries of my oft-fussy babe, bringing laughter out of my precious son as it played with him. It turned to me, and my sword clattered down to the ground. It was not even a beast. I saw the intelligence in its eyes, its gentleness in the way it approached me. It bore no scars from the attacks of humans, and acted as if my son and I were the first it had ever met. This was a dragon that had remained unmarred from the cruelty of humans. This was a dragon in the truest sense of the word, and I saw that its soul reflected my own. I could not even be angry for the accidental cut it had left on my babe as it whirled to meet me. All I felt was wonder. And then, just as before, everything changed. Stoick rushed in with a mighty roar, and threw his axe at the beast. Startled, it set fire to the ground around him.

"Valka, run!" Stoick yelled, heedless of my cries for him to stop. He rescued our babe from the flames as the dragon turned once more to me. It stepped forward as it studied me. I stumbled back. Still, I saw no malice in its gaze.

"No," I murmured. It had to go. It would die. And then with a great beating of its four wings, it rose and grabbed me in its claws. I screamed Stoick's name as it bore me into the sky. It bore me away from my home, away from my husband, away from our wailing son in Stoick's arms. My burning hut shrunk as we rose and became only a speck of flame and smoke. Soon even my hut disappeared and all of Berk became but a fire-wreathed pebble in the great, dark sea. I screamed and fought until I only had the strength to lay limp. I had let myself become prey. Worst of all, I had let this dragon burn down our home, endangering my husband and son. They nearly died, all because I couldn't kill a dragon. The chill air grew thin, the feet of my captor the only pulsing warmth in the great cold. We flew with a flock of raiding dragons where terrified sheep and yaks - the other prey - hung helplessly beside me. I pitied all of us. Then the dragon that held me deviated sharply away from the others until we were alone. The ocean froze beneath us as we continued on and my shivering became uncontrollable. The moon was dipping low when we finally approached a mass of green ice the size of a mountain. The dragon dove down and into a hole in the mountain. He glided through a series of caves, covered by a roof of ice, until he reached a larger one. In the strange green light I could see sleeping dragons of all colors and sizes. Was he bringing me to them as prey? He dropped me onto my feet, where I stood helplessly, and then landed next to me. Smoke fluttered up from the nostrils of the sleeping dragons and fangs jutted from their mouths. How would they kill me? My captor lowered himself to the ground and extended a great wing. He covered me with it and pulled my freezing body closer to him. I stumbled and fell on top of him, but he only wrapped all four of his wings around me and settled into a more comfortable position. He was warm, smelling of smoke and of fire, but not of the usual fire-smell of burnt wood or burnt flesh. It was a different smell altogether. I trembled, though I shivered no longer from cold. Would he eat me come morning? Would he fatten me up like we would a boar? Would he eat me at all? I wept for hours until I discovered myself exhausted. Exhaustion piled onto exhaustion until, at last, I was overcome by bitter sleep. My dreams were dark, but indecipherable in the morning. All I could recall were the cries of Stoick and the wails of Hiccup. Years after, those same cries would continue to haunt my dreams.


	2. Sanctuary

**Thank you for the new follows, reviews and support! This story has been brewing within me for a while and I'm so excited to share it with you all!**

 **Quick note: the dragon mountain is the same as the one found in HTTYD 2 but there are a significantly smaller amount of dragons and the heart of it (the lush part) lacks the massive ice roof. I'll address it in later chapters but know for now that it's still in the process of being built.**

There was a thumping sound interlaced with my dreams, not unlike the drumbeats of our music before we charged into battle. It reminded me of the feeling of warpaint drying on my face. It reminded me of the boots of the powerful young warrior that would pound the ground as he danced with me. The thumping lingered after the dreams faded. My body was engulfed by a deep warmth that would brush up against me as it rose and fell. It was as soft and as rough as snakeskin. I gasped as my eyes opened and the events of the prior night overwhelmed me. I was wrapped within the wings of a dragon. I could feel its chest rising and falling as it breathed and hear its powerful heartbeat. My sense of safety vanished. Two desires rose up in me: the first, to tear my way out of those loathsome wings and run as far as my legs could take me; the second, to lay still in mute terror so that it forgot I was even there. The dragon stirred. Neither would work, I realized. It was far too intelligent for that. Its wings curled opened and there was suddenly light. The dragon deposited me on the ground, where I rose. The morning light brightened the room but it was still an eerie, unnatural blue-green. The cave was emptier than I had first realized. Only a few dragons remained curled on the ground. The dragon bumped me, making me flinch, but when I turned it only regarded me with those wide yellow eyes. I hesitated to look into them, fearing that he would interpret it as a threat. Finally I dared to meet them and saw only gentle curiosity. I had assumed that his perceived friendliness before was a ruse to snatch me - or Hiccup. Why would he continue it if I was but a piece of prey to him? Why would he snatch me at all if not for food, as the others might snatch a sheep? Nothing made sense. The dragon turned and took a few steps away, and then swiveled his head to look back to me so that his chin could have rested on his back shoulders. Could all dragons do that? It was a peculiar gesture to see on any animal but an owl; the oddity of it almost made me laugh. It took another step, still looking backwards at me. It wanted me to follow it. I did, stepping with care to avoid brushing up against any other dragons. I couldn't count on all of them to be as unhostile as this dragon. Even the Nadder from all those years ago would have probably killed me if I came too close. It had seen vikings before. It knew that we were killers.

The dragon led me through dim and winding tunnels, slowing whenever I fell behind. The tunnel rose into a steep incline of wet rock. I struggled to scale it, sliding backwards even as the dragon leapt up with ease. Clambering up it was a vivid reminder that this place was not the home of humans. The tunnel grew narrower and brighter when I reached the top, with moss growing wherever the sunshine touched. I followed and found myself stepping out of the tunnel and into the heart of the mountain. Everything was a brilliant green: more vivid than Berk in springtime. Tall, pale cliffs surrounded us, dripping with moss and ferns, and pillar-like formations of the same rock rose up all throughout the caldera. Countless waterfalls streamed down the cliffs and met in a great pool of a deep green-blue. In the center was the largest pillar of rock, so covered in lush plants that the rock itself seemed alive. And oh, the dragons! The sanctuary was dotted with perhaps a hundred of them. I stumbled forward, only half-conscious of my gaping mouth. Nothing I had ever seen - nothing I could have dreamed of - came close to this. The dragons seemed different. Here, they weren't monstrous apparitions, creeping from the shadows and seen only by the harsh light of the burning village. Here, they seemed as a part of the beauty as the waterfalls. There were some I recognized, but most I hadn't even seen in the Book of Dragons. They were all different, varying in size and hue in strange and wonderful ways. They were more colorful than the exotic birds I had once seen brought by a trader from a distant land. In my awe-struck stupor I nearly tripped over a dragon hatchling: a brilliantly blue little Nadder. It squawked in protest and then stopped short when it saw that I wasn't another dragon. Curiosity twitched through its body but shyness won over and the little dragon backed away. I dropped to my knees so as to seem less of a threat and offered it my hand, reminded of a time from my girlhood when I won the trust of an injured dog. The hatchling crept forward, sniffed my extended hand and rubbed up against me. I hesitated and then ran my fingers down its back. It cooed and leaned into me. I laughed.

"You're just a scaly wee bird, aren't you?" A few other Nadder hatchlings first crept up and then darted forward, swarming me with nudges and experimental nibbles. I let out a cry as one nipped me a little harder and the dragon growled at them, scattering most of them in seconds. A few were stubborn and remained around me, but the dragon lifted his head and gave them a blisteringly haughty look. He was a proud one, I realized. I stepped closer to him and he inspected me before leading me on to the edge of the cliff. There he lowered his head in reverence. I watched him, puzzled, until a great shadow fell across us.

Then I saw it. It was as if a mountain rose out of the water and towered above me so that I could see nothing else. This was a moment when all pride falls flat. This was a moment when one discovers that they, no matter who they are, might as well be an insect to such a creature. I came face-to-face with a being perhaps more ancient than the ocean itself, of surpassingly greater wisdom, and beauty, and strength than a thousand armies. Just its eyes made me feel small: the blue-green depths that had seen empires formed and empires fall. It was a dragon, nothing less than the king of dragons, and it was magnificent. I could feel its breath upon me like an icy wind and I looked down to notice that its breath was causing frost to form upon my clothing. I bent low and extended my arms in a bow. When I dared to look up again I saw those great eyes observing me. There wasn't a trace of fear or concern within their depths. If anything, I saw a regal sort of curiosity. The dragon alpha was pale, with long crimson horns that ran down his face, great tusks larger than a longboat and a massive mane-like frill around his head, tipped with crimson. The dragon beside me lowered his proud gaze and kept it fixed upon the ground until the dragon king returned to the water. I continued to watch him settle back into rest. Hatchling dragons alighted upon him, clambering over his face and tusks. He allowed them to climb over him with only a good-natured shake of his great head. His gentleness astounded me. It was the truest kind of gentleness I had ever seen: a being with strength to level cities that instead chose patience, grace and kindness. This was a dragon that all others submitted to, that was more than worthy of every respect paid to him, that yet allowed the hatchlings to freely pester him. He even seemed to enjoy their company, unruly as they were.

I sat on a patch of soft grass and continued to watch him, imagining how I would sketch him if I could. Would it even be right to? Maybe I would only draw the striking features of the dragon that took me. I turned to face him but he was no longer here. My heart began to pound as I scanned high and low for him. Nothing. He had left me. He was my only protection against the other dragons and now he was gone. Already the other dragons were beginning to notice his absence. A few larger ones began to approach me, sniffing me as the hatchlings did. I backed away.

"No, please, I don't have anything to offer," I tried to wave them away but they persisted. If they decided I was food I would be dead in an instant. After all, I was a human, the enemy. Some seemed curious as they approached, but one eyed me with unconcealed suspicion. There was a dragon that had been hurt by us. It advanced, its tail lashing and crest flared. I stepped back again, noticing the cliff edge growing closer behind me. The beginnings of a growl formed in the dragon's throat.

"Please, I'm not going to hurt you. Go on! Go!" I cried out, still stumbling backward. I lost my footing. The ground was gone. I hurtled through empty air. They backed me off the edge. The dragons would end up killing me after all. And then I collided with something hard. Winded and gasping, I lay there as I wrapped my head around being alive. I looked up. There was the head of the alpha. I lay, trembling, on its tusk. It had risen up and caught me. My gaze moved back up to the cliff edge where the hostile dragon still watched, dumbfounded. I sat up and saw the water far beneath me. My neck would have easily been broken if I had fallen the distance. The alpha rumbled and the dragon lowered its gaze, and then its whole body. Satisfied with the dragon's submission, the alpha lowered down to the water and set me down on a rock.

"Thank you," I said, smiling as his breath frosted my hair. He had saved me. The dragon alpha had saved me. Why wasn't I more surprised? The dragon king settled back down and closed his eyes. No other dragons bothered me under his watch. Only once did the hatchlings even try to come close, and all it took was the faintest rumble from the alpha to send them screeching away. My fear ebbed away and I continued to watch the dragons with renewed wonder.

In time, I spied a familiar tawny-colored, four-winged shape diving back into the caldera. It was my dragon - my kidnapper, that is - and I was still frustrated with him for leaving me. It took a moment for the dragon to find me and it seemed surprised to see me there beside the alpha.

"They nearly killed me," I told him as he landed beside me, "I don't know why you brought me here, but you're not allowed to leave me alone." The dragon blinked, and then dropped something before me. It was a fish. I stared at it, and then back at him. The dragon nudged it closer.

"I don't eat raw fish, dragon." The dragon simply stared at me. I snorted, reminded that despite the intelligence I saw in those yellow eyes the dragon still couldn't understand my words. Despite the nauseating fish-odor, my stomach rumbled. The dragon had realized I was hungry before I even did and expected me to eat the food it brought me. I sighed.

"I don't have anything to build a fire with. I can't eat it." Fire. The dragons made fire. Maybe there was a way. I mimicked a dragon blowing fire-breath all over the fish before putting it back down before the dragon. The dragon gave me a puzzled stare, and then mimicked my movements. There was no fire. I doubted I could ever communicate to the dragon that I wanted it to breath fire for me but I was amazed the dragon copied me at all. Finally I consented and took a bite of the raw fish. I gagged and nearly threw up at the smell. Oh, what I'd give for something cooked. Not my own cooking, though - the raw fish was almost appetizing compared to some of the meatballs I've made. Gobber delighted in teasing me about them back home. Home. Hot tears ran down my face. Stoick thought I was dead. Hiccup...what would my babe do without his mother? He was scarcely weaned. How would I get back? The dragon cocked his head, watching the tears meet at my chin and drip onto my tunic. He butted me gently, suddenly concerned.

I wiped my tears away and scowled at him. This was his fault. I was less sure now that the dragons would kill me - if at all, I doubted it would be right away. What then? I would find a way to return to Berk - I was sure of it - but I was haunted now with the knowledge of a hidden dragon sanctuary. If the dragons didn't kill me it meant that they trusted me with an enormous secret. Stoick would fight an army for the knowledge that I now had, knowledge that felt like betrayal to share with anyone else. It had felt like I betrayed it when the Nadder who spared me was killed, even though there was nothing I could have done. Even that still weighed heavily on my conscience. I was stolen by a dragon and nearly attacked here by a dragon. I had every right to betray them and see them die. I could forget that the dragon-king saved me, an intruder; that a dragon brought me food and cared when I cried, that a dragon calmed my sobbing child when his parents were far away - when his father was busy slaying that dragon's own kind. I could, couldn't I? Could I?


End file.
